Creeaaak

Kurt slowly opened the wooden door while checking for any danger. Once he saw that the coast was clear, both he and Hope quietly slipped out of the closet. He kept his matte-black sword partially drawn, the hilt cold against his palm, ready to strike at any moment.

"Alright, Hope. First, we need to get out of this maze. Stay close to me, ok?"

"Ok..." She nodded her head once.

Together, they backtracked through the labyrinthine service tunnels, moving past the storage barrels where he found the little girl and back down the corridor where the two cultists lay in a growing pool of dark, cooling blood.

’They didn’t bother moving these bodies? Whatever. That’s convenient for me.’

Kurt stood over the corpses. Hope buried her face in his leg, not wanting to see the gruesome sight. He didn’t want to subject her to this scene again, but he needed a disguise for the girl. Her blonde hair and white tunic stood out too much. He reached down and unfastened the dark cloak from the smaller of the two dead men.

"Put this on," he handed the bundle to Hope.

She pulled it over her shoulders, but the garment was absurdly large. The hem dragged a good foot on the grimy stone floor, and the hood swallowed her entire head, making her look like a small, black tent.

"Uhm... Mr. Kurt..."

"Oops. Sorry about that. Here, hold still." He drew his switchblade from its sheath, and with the precision of an amateur tailor, he carefully began hacking away at the heavy wool. He sheared the bottom into a jagged hem that hit just above her ankles and sliced the sleeves so her hands could actually fully fit through. "Not exactly high fashion, but it’ll keep you from tripping."

"Thank you, Mr. Kurt," she whispered, pulling the hood slightly back so that she could see properly.

"Just Kurt is fine. We’re friends now, right? Also, get ready to lead the way. We’re coming up on the exit."

They began the climb out of the underground storage. Hope led him through a series of corridors and damp servant stairs. It was a nerve-wracking experience. At every corner, Kurt had to sharpen his senses and concentrate, listening and feeling for the tell-tale vibration of movement.

They were halfway down a long, torch-lit corridor when the sound of voices drifted from around a corner.

"... I’m telling you, the woman in the western wing is a distraction! Something’s not right! There has to be another one!"

"... I swear to the Goddess above, if there’s nobody there, I’m telling Sister Violet that this was your idea! That is, whatever she’s done playing with her new toy..."

’Crap!’ Kurt’s heart hammered.

There was no cover. Only an alcove with two empty crates. He grabbed the torch above and threw it hard in the opposite direction, then he quickly held Hope’s shoulder and yanked her toward him.

"Get in," he hissed, throwing open the folds of his own black cloak.

Hope didn’t hesitate; she pressed herself against his leg, tucking her head under his protective arm. Kurt wrapped the fabric of his cloak around her, pressing his back into the shadows of the alcove. He pulled his hood as low as it would go and held his breath.

When the two cultists rounded the corner, their torches casted a long, flickering shadow that danced over Kurt’s boots. He went perfectly still, a statue of cloth and hidden steel. He could feel Hope’s nervous heart racing against his thigh.

"... Wasn’t there supposed to be a torch here?"

’Shit! Please don’t look over here, please don’t look over here!’

"... What, are you blind? It’s over there." The cultist pointed ahead.

"... What’s it doing way over there?"

"... Probably got knocked over during the panic." 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"... Oh right... Come on. Let’s get it."

The torchlight lingered on the crates for a terrifying second, then moved on. Kurt waited until the footsteps were a good enough distance away before releasing his grip and swiftly turning the corner with Hope.

"That was close," she whispered while speed walking with Kurt.

"Too close. Let’s not get complacent. How far are we from the exit?"

Hope pointed toward the end of the hall, where a heavy, unassuming wooden door stood beneath a single, flickering lantern. "There!" She excitedly whispered. "That’s the way! It leads outside and to the gate!"

They bolted for it; Hope’s small feet pitter-pattered against the stone. When they reached it, Kurt grabbed the iron handle and twisted. It didn’t budge. He braced his shoulder against it and shoved, but the door was locked tight.

"It’s locked," he growled. "They must have sealed the perimeter when the alarm went off."

"We have to go back?" Hope’s voice trembled.

"No. We don’t have time." Kurt closed his eye, focusing on the core of his being. He felt the familiar, hot surge of his strengthening magic channelling into his shoulders and legs, his muscles bulging slightly beneath his gear.

He didn’t kick it since that would be too loud. Instead, he placed his palm flat against the center of the wood and gave one massive, controlled push. The internal bolt shrieked as the wood around it splintered. With a muffled snap, the lock broke and the door gave way, swinging open into the night.

SHAAAA!!!

The transition was violent. One moment they were in the stagnant heat of the fortress; the next, they were slammed by a wall of freezing rain and wind.

Kurt looked around and dragged the green trash container nearby to block the door. Looking up at the sky, he noticed the light grey clouds had turned dark grey. He reached into his pocket and checked his phone.

"6:00pm," he muttered. "The sun’s gone. That’s good for us."

"This way!" Hope shouted over the wind and heavy rain.

Together, they ran through the muddy pathway. The rain turned the world into a blur of grey and black. Eventually, they reached the side gate Hope had mentioned. It wasn’t a grand entrance; it was a service gate, but the cultists had reinforced it. Heavy iron chains were coiled around the bars like snakes, secured by three massive padlocks and barbed wire on top.

Kurt reached out to break the chains, but the moment his glove touched the metal, a bright blue zap of electricity snapped through the air.

"Gah! Motherfmmmm!" He yanked his hand back and held his words, making sure to be careful as to not swear in front of her.

"Kurt! Are you okay?!"

"I’m fine," he hissed as he shook off the pain.

He looked at the gate, then at his hands. If his adaptation skill was going to help, he needed to give it a better conduit. He focused on drawing his mana to the surface of his skin. Mana Coating. A faint, sapphire shimmer enveloped his hands, a protective barrier of mana.

He reached out again. This time, the electricity hissed against the coating but couldn’t penetrate.

’Nice.’ Kurt gripped the central chain.

With a roar of effort, fueled by his strengthening magic, he twisted the links. The metal zapped, glowing white-hot for a second, and then snapped. He threw the chains aside and kicked the gate open.

They stepped through, leaving the fortress grounds behind. Kurt took a moment to pull the gate shut and wind the broken chains back around it. It wouldn’t stop anyone now that it’s broken, but it might buy them a few minutes if a patrol came by.

The path ahead was a narrow stone trail that led toward the distant silhouette of Tobias’ estate. It was surrounded by overgrown bushes and twisted trees that looked like reaching hands.

"Hope, what kind of monsters are out here? Did the zealots mention anything specific?"

"I don’t know," she said in a small voice. "I haven’t seen any. They just told us that the ’Unworthy’ were turned into food for the monsters. They also said if we ran away from the path, the Great Weavers would catch us."

’Great Weavers? I don’t like the sound of that.’

"Ouch!"

Hope’s foot caught on a gnarled root. She went down hard, sliding into a patch of thick, grey weeds. Kurt was by her side in a second, hauling her up.

"You okay?"

"Yes, just... sticky." She complained.

Kurt looked at her. Her cloak was covered in thick, white, ropey strands. It wasn’t mud. It was spider silk. Thicker and tougher than anything he’d ever seen. He began frantically brushing it off her, the silk sticking to his gloves like tar.

"Change of plans," Kurt said. "Get on my back. We need to move faster than this."

Hope didn’t argue. She climbed onto his back, locking her arms around his neck. Kurt adjusted her weight and began to run. He moved with the tireless pace of a predator, darting his eye between the trees.

Suddenly, a sound cut through the roar of the rain.

CRACK!

Kurt skidded to a stop, his boots splashing in a puddle.

"What’s wrong?" Hope whispered into his ear.

"Shh."

Kurt felt a cold, tingly sensation erupting across his skin. His unique skill, Adaptation, was screaming at him. The air felt charged, heavy, and wrong.

Then, the world changed.

Everything slowed down. The rain falling around him became a curtain of individual, shimmering diamonds, suspended in mid-air. The sound of the wind stretched into a low, guttural moan. The swaying trees moved with the agonizing slowness of underwater kelp.

’Shit. This only happens when I’m moments away from death.’

He scanned the perimeter. Nothing. Then, from the corner of his eye, he looked at his own shoulder.

A massive, black, hairy talon was inches from piercing his flesh. It was descending from above with silent, terrifying speed.

Kurt looked up.

’Oh my...’

Hanging from the trees was a monster that defied logic. It was a spider the size of a carriage, its abdomen pulsing with a sickly violet light. It had dozens of eyes, all of them fixed on him with a cold, alien intelligence.

"Move!" Kurt roared, though it sounded like a slow-motion growl.

He threw himself forward in a desperate lunge, making sure to not hurt Hope. Time snapped back to its normal flow with a violent jolt.

BOOM!

The monster crashed into the spot where he had been standing a millisecond before, its massive weight shattering the narrow stone path and sending a spray of mud into the air.

Kurt scrambled to his feet with Hope still clinging to his back. Her eyes wide with a terror that stole her voice. The Great Weaver rose, its legs unfolding like jagged knives, blocking the path to the estate. It hissed, a sound like steam escaping a pipe, and its mandibles clattered together in anticipation.

"Hold tight, Hope," Kurt drew his black sword. "This is going to get messy."